


Shelter

by isawrightless



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8063506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isawrightless/pseuds/isawrightless
Summary: “You want me to go? Tim asks in a breath."No,” Jason starts. “But I don’t want you to stay just because you’re hiding."





	

Jason doesn't know why he agreed to this, and honestly, he regrets it a lot. It's cold, he's tired and his entire body is aching, yet here he is, standing on the rooftop of a cheap hotel in Gotham, waiting. He has half a mind to take off his helmet and light up a cigarette but even that requires too much energy, so he chooses to think about the warm shower and the warm bed that is waiting for him back at the place he's been calling home. He chooses to believe he's being smart about this but he's painfully aware this meeting is a very stupid idea.

"Where's Tim?"

Dick Grayson's voice rings through the night, getting lost in the noise of the city, then coming back stronger and louder and snapping him out of his daydream. It's the certainty hidden behind the question that makes Jason smile: Tim is with him, no doubt about it, and Dick Grayson, caring brother, wants to know where. Jason takes a minute to appreciate that, feeling smug and cocky, all that lack of energy replaced by adrenaline.

He turns around and is face to face with Nightwing, black and blue shining under the moonlight. Dick has a way of being imperative without realizing it, a habit he picked up from Bruce. You can't help but admire him, his confidence, the way he carries himself. Dick didn't create Nightwing out of hatred or need, he just grew into it. He had the chance to.

Now, see, Red Hood was born out of bitterness, and that's fine by Jason, it truly is, except it isn't but he doesn't have the freedom to admit that. He doesn't have the guts to confess his desire to be happy and okay, how much he wants to be hopeful and believe everything will be all right because every time he allows himself a moment of peace, something always snatches it from his hands, leaving claw marks and blood on his palms, taking away something good.

Clinging to a small amount of bitterness is easier, makes his punches stronger.

"Wow, hello to you, too."

"Where is he?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Jason says, shrugging.

"Don't do that, don't play dumb."

"I'm not-"

"Where is he?"

"Playing dumb."

"Jason-"

"For fuck's sake, I don't know where he is."

"He's either with you or he's gone missing."

"Everybody goes missing at some point in our family, Dick," Jason shakes his head, chuckles and then says: "Good thing we were trained by a master detective, right?"

Silence fills their empty space, Dick turns his head and looks down at the city while Jason scans him. They have never been close, but Jason can see Dick is trying not to yell, biting his bottom lip, thinking of something to say, but he's too worried for that. This kind of affection hurts, and Jason knows, knows that even if sometimes Dick can be the biggest hypocrite in the world-the golden child of all the robins-his love is genuine, it has always been, and maybe they will never get along as well as they want to (because Dick sees in Jason a brother he failed to protect and Jason sees in Dick an idol he failed to impress), but in the end it doesn't matter, family is family.

Jason sighs, takes off his helmet, his face burns in the cold, and he chooses his next words very carefully.

"He's fine, Dick."

The man turns his attention back to him in a flash, a cynical smirk on his face.

"So you do know-"

"I don't know," Jason interrupts. "I don't know where he is, I just know he's fine."

"He talked to you?"

Jason nods.

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

Dick takes four steps forward, standing two inches away from Jason who is ready to block any punch that may come his way, but before he can even do anything, Dick grabs his wrist, and he's gentle and serene, his thumb pressing his skin underneath the sleeve of his leather jacket.

"You're not lying?" his tone is a lot calmer, grounded.

"No, Dick, I'm not lying."

"He's okay?"

"Yeah," Jason looks down at Dick's hand, the one that's holding him, and the scene is so strange and unfamilar that he feels uncomfortable, like he's not supposed to be on the receving end of such a gesture, at least not from Nightwing. "You can let go now," he says and Dick complies.

"If he calls again, tell him I'm-we're worried."

And with that, Nightwing is gone, jumping from rooftop to rooftop and disappearing into a sea of building, into the mess that is the city. Jason waits exactly thirty seconds before folding the left sleeve of his jacket, and when he finds the little bug dear brother planted on him, he can't help but chuckle. Dick wasn't being gentle with that wrist holding act, he was placing a tracker on him because he didn't believe a single word that came out of his mouth.

Jason feels relieved to know that Dick is still Dick.

He looks at the small, round device one last time and then flings it as far away as he can, watching as it fades away, and then he wastes no time putting his helmet back on and getting out of there, running back to his home: an abandoned loft near the old, deserted and crumbling orphanage of Gotham. He's had it for a couple of years now, and it wasn't hard to repair the damage, restore power and fix the plumbing, contrary to popular belief. It's got two floors, decorated with only the essential. He has a feeling Bruce knows about this place, but the man has never showed up there to surprise him, which is good, especially in the situation he's in right now.

Inside, he throws his helmet and jacket on the couch, takes a look around before climbing the stairs and finding Tim sleeping on his stomach on the king size bed (very essential), probably cold for being only in his boxers and for having kicked the blankets and the pillows to the floor.

Jason smiles, walks closer to the bed, picks up the blankets and throws them on top of Tim, who jerks awake as if the world is about to end and he's been nodding off through it.

"What?" Tim asks, sitting up on the bed, squinting as he tries to make sense of what's going on.

"Nothing," Jason says, stepping out of his boots and sitting on the bed next to him, back against the headboard. "Feeling better?"

"No...How did it go?" Tim yawns and sctraches the back of his head, still drowsy from sleep.

"He put a tracker on me."

"Did you throw it out?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Hey, you never know," Tim says, getting a playful punch on his arm as consenquence.

"Should I be offended he thought I'd be stupid enough to fall for that or should I be amused?"

"Amused is good."

Jason looks at Tim, stares at the freckle near the scar on his neck, untouched, pretty, a detail. He feels heavy with what he's about to say, feels like forgetting about it all because he knows he might ruin this forever, he doesn't know if what holds them together is that one thing they have in common or something else.

He hopes it's something else.

"He's worried," Jason says, looking down at his lap, at his hands, picturing those claw marks and the blood and his good thing going away in the blink of an eye. "They all are."

"I know."

"You don't wanna talk to them?"

"I can't."

"You didn't do anything wrong-"

"I killed a man."

"Who was kidnapping little kids," Jason doesn't mean to raise his voice, but the thought that some souless, disgusting bastard should be sent to jail instead of vanishing from this world like the dirt he is makes him sick. Monsters shouldn't get second chances.

"I still lost control, I'm still a killer," Tim looks at him, piercing blue eyes gleaming in the dim light. "In his eyes, I'm still a killer."

In his eyes.

Jason wonders how long it will be until the need for approval from Bruce will finally ruin them all.

"You want me to go? Tim asks in a breath.

"No," Jason starts. "But I don't want you to stay just because you're hiding or just because I've killed people, too."

It's out there, the confession, and he hopes he's making sense, hopes that Tim will understand what he means beacause expressing his feelings has never been that easy, and this one flaw he can't blame on anyone but himself.

Everything goes quiet for a moment, Gotham gets incredibly loud, people shouting at each other on the streets, people meeting near the old orphanage, searching for ghosts and dealers and scraps that can be traded in exchange for money.

He finds it funny and ironic that the only reason he can't leave forever, the only reason he chooses to stay is because this city has killed people, too. It has even killed him by proxy.

So maybe he's selfish for wanting Tim to stay for different reasons, but at this point, he doesn't care.

"I don't need to hide here."

"I wasn't kicking you out," Jason tries to defend himself, rolling his eyes in a vain attempt to blow off the heaviness in his heart. He gets it, really, he does. He's messed up and people who mess up run to him because he knows what to do.

"No, Jason, I don't need to be here," Tim explains. "I could've gone somewhere else, could've disappeared. I didn't need to come to you."

"Yet you did."

"Yeah, 'cause I wanna be with you regardless of anything else."

"Oh," Jason says, smiling. Relief washes over him and he swears his fingers are tingling. He turns to look at Tim, says: "You're such a sap."

Tim's mouth hangs open for a second before he chuckles, moving on the bed so he's sitting in front of Jason. "I'm not the one who was concerned here."

"I'll admit I had a couple of doubts, but I wasn't concerned."

Jason doesn't give Tim the chance to call his bluff and pulls the younger man closer, holds both of his wrists and kisses him, takes his time, kisses him so good they both get red, all out of breath, panting. Jason's forehead on Tim's, staring at his eyes, blue blue blue blue, easy to get lost.

"You know," Tim's voice is rough, his lips are red and a little swollen. "We really should consider moving out for a while, this is a stupid place to stay right now."

"Stop insulting my stupid place," Jason says, making Tim laugh. "But we'll go, if you want."

"Thank you," Tim says, earning another kiss.

Jason thinks the rest of the world can forget about them for all he cares, they're fine like this.


End file.
